#thirfane

[magistralucis]

breakbot: So much fun in the past days ! I can’t wait to see my new friends again. I’m going to miss @yourparadise 📸 @mymediasydney (x)

[shepherdscrook]

[edbangingrobot]

Metronomes synced to Heartbeats

Hey guys! I’m back on writing fics (kinda, I’m still busy as hell with college), so I wanted to post this first chapter of a lovely fic that has been sitting on my Google Docs for quite some time. More chapters coming soon, and if you have a request of a fic, leave it on my ask box!

With that said, enjoy the fic. It’s an AU set kinda in the movie Grease but in college instead of high school.

(Breakbot/Irfane, Grease AU)

With an impatient soft sigh and a glance to his wrist watch, Thibaut proceeded to listen to the student singing on the stage. He thought that maybe opening auditions for singers and musicians for the musical group was a mistake, it was incredibly tiresome for him, the music teachers and the students that were auditioning. Luckily, the auditions were almost over after 8 hours, the only people left were the girl singing on the stage and another student. Clicking his pen, Thibaut started to take notes on his small notebook about the girl’s performance after she was done. She has a beautiful voice, but a very limited vocal range, which lowered her chances of getting into the musical group. He was so unfocused and tired that he barely noticed the girl leaving the stage and another student stepping in. “Okay, name?��� Thibaut flipped the page and looked at the student. The student was a young man, with tan skin and the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen. Judging by the student’s black leather jacket, he was part of the greaser gang of the school, which would explain why he had a slightly intimidating look on his face. “Christopher. But, just call me Irfane.” The student said with a side grin. “Alright. You’re applying for the choir, right?” The long haired male wrote down on his notebook, his hand slightly shaky. “Yea, pretty much.” Irfane nodded and held the microphone stand “Do you mind if we get starting already? I have a couple of people waiting for me outside.” “O-oh yea, sure.” Thibaut cleared his throat and sat up straight “Please proceed.” Irfane took a deep breath and started to sing, closing his eyes to focus better on his breathing. Even with only a few seconds of listening, Thibaut had to drop everything he was holding to listen exclusively to the young man on the stage and his melodic voice. It was something he had never heard before, Irfane’s choice of singing Lionel Richie’s “My Love” was obviously correct since it showed how far his vocal range could go and how much he clearly worked his voice. His voice was definitely something Thibaut needed in the choir, or even to sing along while he played the piano. Soon, the song was over and the long haired boy had to blink a couple of times, quickly scribbling on his notebook to try to hide how amazed he was at Irfane’s voice. “So, what’d you think?” Irfane smiled and let go of the mic stand, confidence making his blue eyes shimmer. “We’ll, uh, we’ll share the results tomorrow morning.” Thibaut smiled back at him “You have an amazing voice, Irfane. For how long have you been singing?” “Through my entire life, actually. I was part of the school choir during middle and high school, won many awards in music competitions, no big deal.” The man in the stage laughed a bit and placed his hands in his pockets “I’d love to chat more, but I have some friends waiting for me outside.” “It’s alright, you can go. Results will be shared tomorrow morning.” Thibaut finished taking some final notes on his notebook, and as soon as he looked back to the stage, Irfane was already rushing to the exit door on the right of the stage, loud chatting and laughter coming from outside when he opened it. By the end of the day, the long haired male was feeling positive about the auditions. He barely could wait for tomorrow to talk to the chosen ones for the group and start working with their skills in order to create beautiful musical performances. ~~~ The next day, Thibaut was rushing to talk with everyone that got accepted into the musical group, as well as stapling papers with the results of the auditions everywhere he could. Through the entire morning, he was so involved in solving issues about the musical group and the auditions that he couldn’t attend to class. During lunchtime, he had one last thing to do in the cafeteria before continuing to do his tasks regarding the musical group. Thibaut tried not to seem so nervous while he walked towards the greasers��� table, the table of the group he was most intimidated by. He had seen many times how the greasers tease and pick on some students, and he tried as best as he could to stay out of their radar. But there he was, walking right towards their table to try and interrupt their loud talking and laughing. “Excuse me, um...” Thibaut nervously stuttered while gently tapping someone’s shoulder, a short man with long brown hair and dark blue eyes, and trying to regain his composure “Can, uh, can I speak to Irfane, please?” “Sure, sure.” The long haired greaser grinned and called Irfane’s attention as soon as said man walked towards their table “Hey, this dude wants to talk to you. Must be something important.” “Sure thing, Guy-Man.” Irfane set his tray in the table and allowed Thibaut to guide him away from the greasers’ table. After they were significantly away from it, he quirked an eyebrow to the long haired man “Is it something regarding the musical group?” “Yes. And it’s very important.” Thibaut leaned against a wall nearby “As much as you have a lot of talent and your voice is just ideal for the group, you’ll still need some coaching. So, is it okay for you to have me coach you every Friday? Just three hours every week, i-if it’s not too much of a problem.” “No problems on that, I’m always free on Fridays.” The greaser gave him a small grin and put his hands on the pockets on his dirty denim pants “We start this week then?” “Yea, meet me at 2 pm on the music room.” Thibaut nodded, tucking a section of his long hair behind his ear “And try not to get late since we don’t have much time.” “Got it, I won’t be late, don’t worry.” Looking back at the greasers’ table, Irfane was ready to turn back and start walking towards it, but hesitated as a bit of concern was visible on his stunning blue eyes “Uh, don’t you have anyone to lunch with? Don’t you wanna sit with us?” “I’ve already had lunch in the music room with the teachers, I can never find any free tables over here.” The long haired man spoke in almost a whisper, almost embarrassed on what he was saying. He knew how much he hated his difficulties with making friends, and even the music teachers advised him to vocally coach Irfane so they could interact more “And I still have a lot to do, y-y’know.” “Alright then. I’ll see you Friday then.” Irfane grinned and gave him two quick pats on his shoulder before walk back towards the greasers’ table. And with that, Thibaut left the cafeteria as quickly as he could before he heard any of the greasers talking about him. Unlike the rest of the men in the group, Irfane was actually really nice to him, even inviting him to go sit with him and the rest of the group. Maybe they could be friends, they had great chances of getting along in the rehearsals. ~~~ When Friday arrived, Thibaut was already waiting in the auditorium at 1:45 pm, warming up by playing simple melodies. After a long time playing piano he sure had memorized a couple of songs that he could easily play without any sheet music, it was a way for him to relax and clear his mind. Through most part of his school life, the place where he could sit down and play the piano was his safe havens, whenever he felt lonely, sad or hopeless he knew that playing a calming song would make him feel better. He got lost into his music. All Thibaut could focus on was playing the keys and turning his solitude into blissful music. Long much time had passed while he played the piano? He couldn’t tell, but maybe the sound of someone calling him from the auditorium door was enough to bring him back to reality. “I’m here!” Irfane called cheerfully, rushing to get up in the stage “I hope I didn’t get too late, I kinda got lost in the building.” “It’s alright. We should get started...” Thibaut looked at his wristwatch, it was barely 2:06, they still had a lot of time “I separated some sheet music for you to practice.” Irfane quickly scanned his eyes through each one of them, sometimes averting his eyes from the pages to the long haired man by his side with a small smile. “I didn’t quite catch your name, y’know.” Irfane said in a nonchalant tone, still looking through the pages. “I-it’s Thibaut.” The long haired one replied, setting up the small metronome located on top of the piano. “You play really well, you know that.” The greaser looked into his eyes and gave him a friendly grin “I didn’t know where you were until I heard the piano, and I almost didn’t want to interrupt you.” Thibaut’s hand started to tremble as he accidentally sped up the metronome. He was really caught off guard, nobody from his school, besides from teachers, had ever complimented the way he played piano, until now. He quickly stopped the metronome and nervously looked into the keyboard keys, so Irfane couldn’t see how flustered he was getting. “Thank you so much, really.” Thibaut shyly put a strand of his long hair behind his ear, still not looking at the man next to him “Sorry if it seemed a bit off when I played, I wasn’t really using any sheet music.” “No, no, that’s what makes it even more amazing!” Irfane leaned against the piano, supporting himself with his forearms “I’ve seen plenty performances of people playing the piano, and they’re either not talented at or their music didn’t have any feeling. I could feel what you were playing, and you’re great at it.” The long haired man looked up to Irfane with a small smile, joy making him overcome his shyness. Maybe he was wrong about greasers, or at least this greaser in particular was different from the rest. Irfane was really kind, polite and understanding, and Thibaut would never have guessed a greaser could be like that. “Let’s get started, shall we?” He glanced at the sheet music that was chosen by Irfane and started to play the first notes “Start whenever you’re ready.” And within a couple of notes played, Irfane started to sing the chosen song, each word laced with grace and melody. Occasionally, Thibaut could quickly turn away from the keys to evaluate how was the short haired male doing, if he was breathing correctly and how he could handle the longer notes and crescendos. It was almost perfect, it was a voice that he had never heard before and he was more than willing to help him improve. The coaching was nearly beginning, and Thibaut was already planning the exercises he would pass for the greaser. ~~~ Their coaching ended at 6:30 pm. Thibaut guided the greaser outside the building, both of them walking around in their college’s campus. Putting his leather jacket back on, Irfane combed his own hair with his fingers as he listened to the pianist talk, occasionally nodding his head in agreement. “So now don’t strain your voice and don’t drink cold water. Your voice is great, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.” Thibaut warned him, putting his hands in his pockets “And do the exercises we did today, I’m sure you’ll improve a lot.” Before Irfane could say anything else, the group of greasers suddenly approached them. The long haired male studied the greaser group for a bit, and there were an assortment of people, each one with different looks and different personalities. Their leader, Guy-Manuel was the shortest of the group, but he emitted confidence and mystery through his posture, as he greeted Irfane when they got close. “Hey, right on time.” Guy-Manuel crossed his arms with a smile “Ready to see the soccer game tonight?” “Uh, sure, sure thing.” Irfane quickly answered before turning back to the pianist, displaying a small smile “Do you wanna come with us?” “N-no.” Thibaut looked down, trying to avoid the intimidating looks of the rest of the greasers. He hated to have too many people looking at him at once, and it was certainly making him nervous “I-I, uh...” “Hey, it’s fine.” Irfane patted his shoulder softly “Maybe next time. I’ll see you around.” And with that, he turned away with the greasers towards the front gates, chatting and laughing loudly as they usually did. Thibaut watched them walk away, only to notice Irfane give him one last glance before his friends dragged him out of the campus. The long haired man almost regretted denying the offer, Irfane was such a nice dude that he wanted to know him better, judging by how he hesitated to walk back to the building, a sad look on his face. Thibaut felt an unfamiliar warmth spread across his chest, something he had never felt before, as if he never wanted the coaching to end and he could spend a little more time with him. But he looked after meeting him again next Friday and helping him improve his beautiful voice, and that was enough for him to lighten up for the rest of the day.

[magistralucis]

irfane, as part of outlines: eats while talking, has no consideration for others, punches his friends, is bilingual and takes no prisoners, throws cats from beds, begins a revolution of pain and bloody violence, wears leopard print,

breakbot: bonjour

irfane: you 😍💖 are all I think about 😍✨😍✨😍 keep me sulking and down 😘👇🏼 but you fill me with 🔥 so much 🔥 emotion 😳💖😳 and I'll show my 🙏🏼🕊💐 devotion 💐🕊🙏🏼 to you ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

[magistralucis]

Breakbot & Irfane for Still Waters | © 2016 Ludovic Zuili

[magistralucis]

For the ask post, "This is all your fault." (Angst)

16 - “This is all your fault.” / Thibaut & Irfane

You want to pull yourself together, Chris?

Clock strikes ten and Irfane feels like he’s losing his mind. He shakes off the inquiries and concern and stumbles out from backstage, down the corridor and past security and out of the club altogether. His gigmate is still back there, doubtless still going strong, patching over all my mistakes if I haven’t utterly ruined the set as it is, this is it, I’ve done fucked up and Thibaut is most definitely not going to want to cover for me much longer. His hands are shaking and he’s exhaling hard through his teeth and even though the streets are lit he can’t actually see most of it. He doesn’t know whether he can bear to stay nor where else he could possibly go, and worse, he probably has no longer than five minutes to decide one way or the other.

This is all your fault. You’re a chore, Christopher. His chore.

Oh, he anticipated a learning curve. He never expected this to be the set of his life, he’s still essentially taking lessons - but Irfane didn’t anticipate that he’d react so badly to the inevitable, either.It’s very obvious when one fails a crowd at a club. It doesn’t look exactly like what one might expect it to look, full of disgusted grimaces and walk-outs; those tend to be the early signs of something groundbreaking, something Irfane doubts he will ever reach. An actual failed set creates spaces - people saunter away to the bar, sit down with casual indifference, wait for a set actually worth dancing to. And as far as Irfane’s gathered, the truth is that the crowd grows when Thibaut’s in the lead and goes away when Irfane takes over.

He’s awful. Irfane got the message loud and clear. He covers his face.

Does Thibaut even need him? Their first set together as a duo and in their home field, no less, and he’s blown it. No one’s scolded him for being awful, but he knows the judgement is there. Must be there, anyway. He can’t imagine Thibaut not judging him, never mind he doesn’t know what that looks like - years of knowing each other and he’s never been angry at Irfane, even once.

Irfane can’t face finding out.

“Chris!”

He blinks and finds he can see straight again; the warmth that blurred his vision is now hot against his cheeks and he realizes he’s crying, long after he knew that he must be. He doesn’t know if he’d have cried more if it was Thibaut calling out for him, either, that’s not Thibaut’s voice- “P-Pedro…”

Pedro doesn’t answer for a moment, panting for breath as he catches up to Irfane. Eventually he takes a deep breath, drawing himself up to his full height. “You want to pull yourself together, Chris?”He says - he’s soft-voiced, that Pedro Winter, no matter what crisis lies ahead - but Irfane flinches, trying to turn away. “Dude, Thibaut needs you! Where are you going?”

“I’ve fucked up.” (Well, his voice comes out steady, that’s something.) “I’m not good enough to stand with Thibaut and I’m not going back in there.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Monsieur.” Pedro grasps his hand tight. “And you’re old enough to find out, on your own, exactly what about what you just said was so wrong. If you don’t want to be there, you will at least have the decency to tell Thibaut you don’t want to be there before you split.”

“He doesn’t need me to keep this set going-”

“He needs you because you’re you!” Pedro’s voice turns sharp, then quietens again with some effort. “That’s all I can say in his stead, because I don’t claim to speak for him - but you better believe he actually said it. I pray to God it’s enough. I came out to find you so he wouldn’t run off himself; will you at least come back to talk?”

Silence. Irfane lets his tears fall and Pedro waits. The seconds keep ticking away. It slowly dawns on him that Thibaut could only have said that to Pedro if he himself had been desperate to find Irfane - if he’d had to summon help for that purpose, if he’d been so frantic that he nearly ditched the set himself. Part of him just wants to squirm and hide for making things harder for Thibaut. But the other part of him is - well, it’s not happy, exactly, more like humbled or even resigned, but it is telling him to go back and do justice to Thibaut like Pedro said. It won’t magically improve his DJ-ing skills, but wandering the streets won’t, either. It’s better for him to hope that he can improve, even if it’s only for the few minutes it’ll take him to talk to Thibaut, because hope has potential and despair doesn’t.

“All right.” Irfane says, and leads the way.

[magistralucis]

Irfane: [Answering a question about how he started making music] ... After I finished my degree I came back to Paris. I started DJing in clubs for money... grew as a musician... but Thibaut's 'Baby I'm Yours' was where the real recognition came. Thibaut's the reason we're on this world tour. And I can't stress enough just how honoured I am- Thibaut: Don't say that. Words such as 'honour' or 'gratitude' simply don't do justice to us. We worked together on this and it's only right to share in it - together.

Breakbot Interview with Mixmag Korea, May 2016

(Currently being translated by @magistralucis)

[magistralucis]

Wishes Passing In The Night [Thibaut/Irfane Fanfiction]

What can I do to make my baby understand?

Hello hi guess who got into Thirfane and decided ship needed content.

This is a prompt fill for @foundlingsuggestion’s post, ‘Ten Ways to Say “I Love You”’, which most of you have probably encountered at least once on your dash. Every prompt has been filled to create a single continuous story; in one instance, a 2012 performance of ‘Baby I’m Yours’ live on French TV inspired me. Lately I’ve felt like I’ve been excessively wordy in my fics, so I’ve dialed back some to deliver short, punchy, effective sentences instead. I started this somewhat on a whim but finished in two days, which I’m very proud about - I still have it in me, after all!

The story follows Thibaut and Irfane from around 2010 to late 2015, just before the release of Still Waters. Sweet, slice of life, full of fond musings. It’s safe for work. It’s not long by my standards, but long enough to warrant its presence on AO3. Please enjoy some good old fluff and let me know what you thought about it! <333

[Published 07/01/2018 - AO3 link here.]

[magistralucis]

thibaut/irfane

Wedding singer. Wedding pianist. Everyday matrimony.

[magistralucis]

How about Irfane/Thibaut for that 6-word fic prompt?

Irfane’s mouth is sweeter than cherries.

[magistralucis]

i found a korean breakbot interview that’s got the most thirfane answer to a question ever i need to get back to translation apparently

[magistralucis]

I'd like to request some #5 fluff of the Thirfane variety, please!

5 - “Are you warm enough?” / Thibaut/Irfane

Chocolate-coated madeleines ought to be required fare on coffee breaks, Thibaut decides. Especially in summer, when the air is still and scents are hot. They don’t need to be fancy. Don’t even need to be homemade; he picks up his for two Euros per bag from the cake aisle and no one’s ever complained. All that matters is that they’re there, close enough that Irfane will notice them and engage in his special ritual.

Dear Lord. He’d be mortified if he hadn’t been feeding into it in the first place.

Nostalgic afternoon. Xavier and Gaspard came to visit. They must be at the other side of the world in three days’ time, but they’ve asked to spend the interval at Thibaut’s place where coffee, cakes, and coffee cakes flow like water. Irfane is there because he is always there. He was there when Xavier and Gaspard fell through Thibaut’s doorstep the morning before, and they’ve yet to see him go away. (If the pair has been giving Thibaut sly looks about this, he hasn’t noticed.) Plenty of time to bask in familiarity, to say the least.They like drawn-out meals. Xavier nibbles daintily on biscotti, adequately softened in his espresso. Gaspard stirs in another sugar cube. His glasses are misting up and it’s honestly too hot for steaming mugs of coffee but they’re all too lethargic to admit it. Irfane, in the meanwhile, sits back - gazes upon the madeleines - smiles, unable to resist their allure.

Thibaut (for his part) can never resist the allure of him.

The windows are open but the curtains remain still. Simple arithmetic: chocolate-covered madeleines, coupled with a stifling hot day, results in an Irfane with chocolate-covered fingers. “Napkin?” Thibaut mumbles, pushing forwards a stack, but his eyes are already fixed on Irfane’s solution to the problem.

He keeps it casual at first. Irfane glances down at his hand, tuts as if the smudges were but a nuisance, and begins with a small lick up his thumb. Thibaut watches, mesmerized, as Irfane’s fingers - slowly, steadily, one by one - disappear between his waiting lips.

He knows that he’s staring - he knows that Irfane knows he’s staring - but he doesn’t care. Irfane always begins this ritual with haste as if he were embarrassed, but the twinkle in his blue eyes betray that he’s anything but. Thibaut couldn’t ignore him if he tried, anyway. He and Irfane are new - friends for over half a decade, more than friends for barely two months - and they’re still shy about it, but Thibaut knows that if they’d been alone, he wouldn’t have lost a second crossing to Irfane’s side of the room and offering to help him out. 

Thibaut has a more sensual mind than most people give credit for. His own lips, closing gently over those slim fingers. His own tongue, soft against Irfane’s skin. His beard would probably tickle him some and make him chuckle, blushes alighting his cheeks. Irfane catches the way Thibaut’s tongue flicks nervously against his lower lip and grins in mischief, licking his last finger with deliberate, agonizing slowness. Well, at least we can get back to being responsible hosts, Thibaut thinks as he leans back, exhaling shakily, before realizing with mixed despair and excitement that there are at least six more left on the plate oh sweet Lord my sweetheart’s going to do it again.But the sweetheart is prevented from doing it again, for the better or the worse. The meringue half of a macaron comes flying from the corner seat and lobs off Irfane’s head, making him yelp with surprise. The other one plops on Thibaut’s lap, thankfully cream-side up. “Get a room, the two of you!” Xavier hollers before collapsing into a fit of delightful cackles. Gaspard’s mustache twitches in a barely-restrained smile as he offers Thibaut a napkin. “Things are getting steamy around here, eh? And I thought today was plenty warm enough.”

Irfane has recovered by this point. “This is nothing.” He shrugs, but sneaks in a wink for Thibaut. “You should see what it’s going to be like tonight.”

Thibaut wishes he could melt into his seat. Or Irfane’s. Either would do.

[magistralucis]

i r f a n e (x)

[magistralucis]

okay but look at irfane and breakbot having a ball pit showdown in seoul

[magistralucis]

💕💙 have they got a Colour Scheme™ going on here Per Haps 💙💕

[magistralucis]

so is there just that one nsfw thibaut/irfane fic on ao3 or am i gonna have to write one